


Bloodhound

by Sianna_the_fanartist



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Like, One Shot, POV Outsider, POV Second Person, Short One Shot, basically Tina just observing connor, hey that guy is cool, mayflies have very short life spans did you know, no beta we die like mayflies, super short!, uh actually he’s kind of weird and a little creepy, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 17:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18529972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sianna_the_fanartist/pseuds/Sianna_the_fanartist
Summary: When Tina first meets Connor, she’s reminded of a dog.Basically just a short one shot about Tina Chen getting to know Connor better that I wrote in the notes app :)





	Bloodhound

When you first meet Connor, you think of dogs. A chocolate lab, maybe, or a golden retriever. You see his dopey smile, his soft brown hair, his wide, warm brown eyes. You see the way he furrows his brows in confusion when your co-worker is a dick to him, and how he keeps offering that unwanted coffee.

 

After a while, once you’ve spent a little time with him post-revolution, you realize that maybe he’s more of a poodle. He’s surprisingly stuck-up, a little prissy. You bet he would love Miss Manners. His posture is perfect, his hair all but pristine, his suits unwrinkled. He is unfailingly polite—his desk is completely tidy, empty but for a few picture frames and his computer.

 

You go out on patrol with him, and you think of a German Shepherd, focused on protection, and noble. His eyes always roaming, head thrown back, hands at the ready. Alert. A guard dog. You feel safe with him there, like he knows what’s up.

 

And then, at a crime scene. You’ve known Connor for a while, now, and you’ve learned most of his little idiosyncrasies. The way he tilts his head, for instance, or fiddles with the quarter in his pocket, or the way he, unnervingly, knows everything you’ve eaten for the past few days, or whether you have a pet or not. It’s to be expected, his focus on learning, _learning_  everything. This focus, though? This was unexpected.

 

Connor’s not a Labrador, or a poodle, or a German Shepherd. He’s a _bloodhound._  

 

All of those little tics and tricks he’s displayed over the course of you knowing him... they all fall away, now, as he tracks the bloodstains on the floor only he can see, one foot in front of the other, methodical and focused. You don’t feel safe, anymore. You feel a little uncomfortable as his gaze sweeps over you and doesn’t see _you,_  but just another statistic. You bet he’s measured your stress levels, higher than they should be, and then promptly discarded the knowledge. It’s not important to him, not right now, at least. Later, you’re sure he’ll check on you, concerned. Later.

 

Right now, he’s a hunter, and he’s chasing his prey.


End file.
